


The tale of the Prince and the Other Prince

by ginnyvos



Series: Fairy Tales on Crack [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fairy Tale Logic, M/M, Non-conventional bedtime stories, Princes are idiots, fairy tale on crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:17:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyvos/pseuds/ginnyvos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is says on the tin: Crack, fairy tales, idiot princes and general ridiculousness... (And very confused fairy tale characters)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The tale of the Prince and the Other Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a bedtime story as told by an RP character (who is very gay indeed) to the daughter of his best friend (and a bit to his son as well, who fancies himself too old for bedtime stories, but will sit inconspicuously in the same room pretending to be doing something else entirely).
> 
> It is, at the same time, secretly a commentary on the ridiculousness of modern-day fairy tale logic. Don't get me wrong, I love fairy tales, I really do. I just wish Disney would break a cliche or two here and there.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far from here, there lived a Prince. He was quite lonely, this Prince, living in his big castle with only his mother and his dog for company. When he discussed this with his mother, she looked at him, and smiled.

"I have been waiting, my son," she said in upbeat tones, "For you to finally come to me! I have the perfect plan! We'll find you a wife."

And so it happened that the next Tuesday, when it was sunny and bright, the prince was decked out in his finest suits and had put on his finest shoes, had his hair combed and his face washed, and was ready to meet a Girl. She was pretty, he supposed, and pleasant enough, and so he talked a little and she talked a lot and when she went home, he told his mother that no, he would not like to meet her next Tuesday, if she wouldn't mind.

The Tuesday after that, a cloudy Tuesday that honestly wasn’t very notable, his mother decked him out in his finest suits and had him put on his finest shoes, and she combed his hair and washed his face, and he met a Girl. She was a different Girl from the one before, the daughter of a friend of a cousin of a neighbour, and he talked a little, and she didn’t talk at all, and in the end they both agreed that they had no desire to meet once more. It was the only thing she actually spoke to say.

After that came a Tuesday that was rainy and miserable, and the Prince simply wanted to roll up in front of the fireplace in his nice comfy clothes, read a book maybe, or knit for a bit, but despite the weather and despite what he might’ve wanted, his mother made him deck out in his finest suits and put on his finest shoes, and she had him comb his hair and wash his face, and come down to the dining-hall to meet a Girl. Easy to say, he was not amused. So she talked a little and he didn’t talk at all, and she left in a huff and really? That was fine by him.

The storm died down and left mist in its wake, and the Tuesday after that, while he decked himself out in his finest suits and put on his finest shoes, while he combed his hair and washed his face, no one showed up and he was quite content with that, too.

As Tuesday came around once more, he stood decked out in his finest suits, his finest shoes put on and his hair combed and face washed and waited for the daughter of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend and she did come, and he talked a little and she asked him if he had any brains at all and left it at that.

The Tuesday after that, his mother kicked him out. She told him to go find a tower or something, safe a princess and marry her for the love of god, because she was out of options and honestly, she couldn’t blame the Girls because no Girl would want to marry the idiot that was her son unless they were truly desperate.

He was quite relieved there was no other Girl coming.

He did find a tower, and the tower had a Girl in it as well. She turned out to be a princess to booth and he figured that his mother would be quite content with that. So he found himself a rope behind the tower, and he managed to get it up to the one window of the tower in some way or other, and called for her to come on down.

“I cannot,” she called back, sounding truly desperate (which was good, as his mother had told him to look for a desperate Girl), “I would not dare for it is too high! Please, dear sir, could you come up and safe me from this peril?”

He sighed and thought not for the first time on how bothersome Girls were, and how tiresome Girls were, and slowly started climbing up. Once there, he found the Girl, laying on her bed quite still, and feigning sleep.

He stood there for a while, trying to remember what his books during prince-school had said on situations like this. He was pretty sure they’d mentioned something about this kind of situation, but what it was, he could hardly remember. All he did remember was that he’d been a lot more interested in looking at Prince Charming two rows ahead and a table to the side than his lecturers at the time.

Finally, after thinking some more and applying some common sense, he decided to shake her shoulder.

It didn’t work.

He shook a little harder, and when that didn’t work, a little harder than that. When that didn’t work either, he decided to call her name, but realized quite quickly that calling someone’s name is rather hard when one doesn’t know what name to call. Finally, he settled for slapping her face.

'Thank god, she opened her eyes,' he thought, and then all he thought was ‘auch!’ for this Girl apparently had a mean right hook.

“You lousy excuse for a prince!” the Girl called out as she jumped off the bed, “What happened to the good old traditional kiss on the lips routine? See if I marry a loser like you!” And with that, she climbed out of the window, poofy skirts and all, slid off the rope quite nimbly for someone fearing heights so much, and as she strolled away, she took the rope with her.

The Prince walked over to the window, looked down and instantly pulled back. It was… Quite a way down. Too far to jump, at the very least. Sighing, he sat back on the bed. After some consideration, he sighed again, laid back, and nodded off in a nice afternoon-nap.

~*~

Now not so far away, but in another kingdom entirely, an Other Prince had just gone off on a Quest Of Great Importance. He was to bring his sister lunch. She was stuck in a tower, waiting for her One True Beloved to free her and make her his wife and queen.

So he rode and he rode, far and long, over fields and mountains, through streams and meadows, by dark forests and deep caves – about half an hour, all together – until he reached the tower she lived in. He went round the back, meant to take the rope, but found it was not there.

'This is odd,' he thought, 'How can the rope not be there? It was here just this morning!' Then he shrugged, hit the right rock to open the passage-way into the tower and started climbing the stairs, basket with lunch in tow.

Upstairs, he found, to his surprise, not his sister, impatiently demanding her lunch, but a strange man. He was asleep on the pretty pink and frilly bed his parents had bought his sister for just this occasion and that she didn’t seem to appreciate in the least, and snoring just a little.

He looked at the man once, then looked at him twice and once again, and tried to recall his prince-classes a few years back.

_What to do when finding a strange man in your sister’s bed_

_You wake the stranger by slapping your glove in his face and challenge him to a duel to the death. The honour of your family is at stake and it will not do to let him soil your sisters name for then no man will have her as his wedded wife._

Somehow, he thought that this rule only applied when his sister was in bed _with_ the stranger, which was not the case right now. Besides, he didn’t have a glove, so it was quite useless anyway. With some difficulty, he tried to recall any other of the wise lessons of his prince-teacher.

_What to do when finding a prince already in the tower once you get there_

_You look whether the princess is worth saving enough to risk your life for. If she is especially pretty or especially rich, you challenge the other prince to a duel to the death. Your honour as a prince and the hand of the princess in marriage are at stake. If she isn’t really, really, really worth it, you quietly slip away and go in search of another princess._

Well, there wasn’t much of a princess here to challenge the Prince over, the Other Prince figured, and besides, even if the princess in residence had still been in, he didn’t really feel like challenging anyone over his sister. They could have her, for all he cared.

And thus he tried to think back, and finally, after staring at the man for quite a while, one of the first lessons of his first year in prince-school popped into his head.

_What to do when finding a sleeping damsel in distress in a tower?_

_One bows over her graciously and lays a soft kiss on her lips. She will wake and look at you with misty eyes. “My prince,” she will exclaim, and kiss you back. You will carry her out of the tower and to your noble stallion, and then you will ride the both of you to your castle and make her your wedded wife. You will be together ever after._

_NB. Do make sure that she is of pleasant disposition and looks beautiful before doing so._

He looked at the stranger this way and that, and this way again, and shrugged. He was pretty sure damsels were supposed to be female, at least, but then again, you never knew. There was an exception to every rule and this might just as well be one. He also didn’t know much about the man’s disposition, but he was beautiful enough… He might as well give it a shot. After all, what did he have to loose?

So the Other Prince bowed over the Prince, as gracefully as he could manage while trying not to fall right on top of the other – he was pretty sure falling over the damsel was not a Romantic Thing To Do - and pressed his lips lightly to the Prince’s.

The Prince had been having quite a nice dream when suddenly, something woke him up. When he opened his eyes, he looked straight into a face. A very male face, features taut in concentration, and with the foreign feeling of lips on his.

He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but the Other prince, who’d kissed his fair share of princesses in his while but never really felt like keeping any of them around for long, recognized at least something familiar; when the person you’re kissing opens their mouth, it’s a clear sign they want you to shove your tongue in.

So he did.

Suddenly, the Prince found he couldn’t ask much of anything. He also found that he rather liked the feeling.

When the Other Prince came up for air, he watched the bedazzled face beneath him and grinned. Yep, definitely did the right thing. Without a second though, he scooped up the Prince in his arms and started carrying him off the stairs. The basket and lunch lay forgotten on the bed.

And they lived happily ever after. Mostly.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think. Comments make my day (and get me writing).


End file.
